Healing
by corneroffandom
Summary: The days immediately following Ricardo's ankle being broken.


Alberto Del Rio had been clear on the other side of the ring when it'd happened, but it hadn't stopped him from hearing the horrible sounds- screams, horribly familiar screams from who could only be his ring announcer. His heart had stopped and he'd stumbled away from the announce table, trying to locate him but barely able to stay on his own feet, much less find Ricardo or do much of anything else. When he finally reaches him, he all but collapses next to him, gripping his hands and demanding answers from the referees and trainers scattered around, the younger man begging and pleading for them not to touch him, not to move his leg, not to- not to...

_Broken,_ Del Rio replays in his head over and over again later on, watching the footage of Swagger viciously snapping it, destroying all humor that he and Ricardo had tried to bring into this feud, with their spoof videos and everything else. "Ay dios mio," he breathes, scrubbing his hands over his face as he looks over at a pale Ricardo, whose chest hitches every few moments. "Mi amigo, lo siento."

Ricardo shakes his head, looking away from the monitor, which is muted. The visuals alone are enough to leave Alberto shaky, ill. He doesn't need to hear it anyway, his best friend's screams still echoing in his mind. "Not your fault, El Patron," he mumbles.

His face falls as he leans closer to the man, resting a hand on his hair. "I should've been there, mi amigo. I wish I could've... stopped this... helped you..."

"It's ok," he murmurs. "You were hurt too." Del Rio had paused the footage on where he'd been trying to get away from the table, find his way to his ring announcer. It's frozen currently on him leaning against the turnbuckle post, disoriented and surrounded by referees. "Don't blame yourself, I don't."

Del Rio grimaces, sighing as he sits down next to Ricardo, staring at his ankle. It's still wrapped in towels, immobilized while waiting to be set, and it just makes him feel worse to see it. "Mi amigo..."

"I'll be ok," Ricardo says, clearly trying to sound strong, brave, for his employer. "It'll... it'll be ok." He visibly is trying to convince himself and Alberto squeezes his hand in response.

"Yes, you will be. I'll ensure it." But there's a deep, painful look of doubt in the younger man's eyes and Del Rio wonders why, the ring announcer never looking this scared, no matter what kind of injuries he's faced in the past few years. He considers asking, but ultimately decides against it for this moment, squeezes his hand quietly as they continue to wait side by side, Alberto wishing he could take that look out of his friend's eyes, absorb the pain for him. "It'll be fine."

By the time they finally are free to go, Ricardo's ankle now set and secured by a cast, both men are exhausted and wanting nothing more than to sink into their hotel beds, get some sleep in before the next day. Alberto's already planning on calling to tell Booker T that he's not going to be traveling to Smackdown this week, choosing instead to stay with Ricardo for at least the weekend, make sure that he's as comfortable as possible, but there's time for that. He helps the younger man through the hotel lobby, supporting him during the unusually long seeming elevator ride, and then down the hallway to their room. Ricardo's starting to nod sleepily by the time they get inside and Alberto is relieved to ease him onto the bed, ruffling his hair slightly until he notices his struggles to lift his throbbing feet onto the sheets. "Here, here," he mumbles, leaning over and helping him carefully, resting each ankle carefully onto the bedding. "Alright?"

"Si," he says, blinking blurrily at his feet as he stares down the bed, barely responsive when Del Rio presses on his shoulders to lay against the pillows. "Gracias."

"De nada." He sits next to him on the bed, adjusting the sheets around him. "You're going to be ok, mi amigo. I promise." Ricardo nods but there's still that odd look in his eyes that worries his employer all the more. He says nothing, however, leaning closer to him and stroking his hands until he starts to nod off, jerking awake every few minutes and searching out Alberto, only relaxing slightly when he finds he hasn't moved. "Let go, Ricardo. The sleep'll help."

The ring announcer winces but nods, releasing a shuddering sigh as Del Rio adjusts the sheets around him anxiously yet again, his eyes slipping closed once more. Alberto swallows and strokes a hand through his hair, smiling sadly when he remains asleep this time. He still stays nearby, running his tongue over his teeth as he thinks. They'll be heading home the next day, which will hopefully bring some comfort to the younger man, being in familiar surroundings, but they'll be returning to an empty house as they'd planned on spending the week doing media for Wrestlemania leading up to Smackdown, so Sofia had taken the time off to see family.

Alberto shakes his head, not wanting to tell the woman about what had happened- he hopes she doesn't find out some other way, but he really can't bring himself to disturb her during one of her all too rare times off, and he's sure Ricardo would feel the same. He groans and buries his face in his hands for a moment before glancing over at Ricardo. "I believe I'll tell her in a few days," he tells the sleeping man. "She deserves this time... and I can take care of you on my own, mi amigo."

Ricardo sleeps on, his lips parted slightly, and Alberto smiles wanly at him before closing his eyes as well, desperate for sleep, however stilted it might be as he jerks awake at any soft noise, or subtle movement, from the ring announcer.

The next morning, Ricardo is awake first, his face tense with pain as he grips the sheets, staring down at his foot with tears filling his eyes anew. Alberto stirs after a few minutes, the bed shaking with his hitching breaths, and he sits up, scrubbing at his face before looking up to find his ring announcer in such a state. "Hey, hey, amigo-" He grips Ricardo's hands, squeezing them in an attempt to distract him. "Sshhh, it's going to be ok. Your medicine..." He releases him long enough to grab the bottle and some water from the bedside table, quickly rejoining him and helping him to take the pills. "Here. Here. You'll feel better soon." He feels horribly for not thinking to set an alarm or something to keep him on some sort of schedule with the pain killers, so he wouldn't wake up in so much pain. "Lo siento, Ricardo, I wasn't thinking-"

"It's not this," he mumbles, staring at his hands. "I- I mean, it hurts, si... but... there's more." He looks up at his employer and shakes his head, sniffing slightly. "When, when I was 16..." The story pours from him, as if once he started he couldn't stop, and Del Rio sits, frozen, listening. "... This is why I always wear socks or... or anything that will cover my feet and ankles, to hide the scar. I don't like to think about it, and I always get so many questions whenever people do see it. It's not something I like to talk about." He takes a deep breath, his eyes closed. "I should've told you, especially when you asked about my medical history during the initial hiring interviews, but it- it was so long ago. It hadn't been an issue, until..."

Alberto closes his eyes, the pieces falling into place as he stares at his ring announcer's ankles. "May... may I?" he asks hesitantly, watching him closely until Ricardo nods, eyes shut tight as if to block out what's about to happen. "Are you sure?"

"Si," he says quietly, listening as Del Rio stands and slowly pulls the sheets off of him, revealing his ankles. As his employer reluctantly rests a hand on his non-casted ankle, pulling his sock off carefully, he releases a shuddering breath and opens his eyes, watching Alberto as he stares down at his foot, lips pressed tightly together until he reaches out and brushes a finger over the scar, glancing up at Ricardo as he shudders a little.

"Does that hurt?" he wonders vacantly, wanting nothing more than to find Swagger right now and make him feel twice as much pain as Ricardo is enduring.

"No," the ring announcer whispers as Alberto adjusts the sheets back around him, careful not to touch his bad ankle. "It's just a little weird... letting someone touch it after so long... no one, outside of doctors, have even seen it since I was a teen." He swallows and clasps his trembling hands together tightly, looking pale and tense.

Alberto sighs and sits back down next to him, eyes dark and sad. "Gracias for trusting me enough to tell me the story, mi amigo. And letting me look at it. I promise to you, Swagger will pay for all he's done."

"I have no doubt," Ricardo sighs, smiling wearily at his employer. "Are we... leaving for the airport soon then?"

"Si. in a little over an hour, I suppose. We have time." He looks down at the other man's legs, shaking his head. "Do you think... perhaps we should get a... motorized cart or something at the airport, so you don't have to walk the whole way?"

"N- no," the ring announcer refuses immediately. "I need, need to grow accustomed to walking with these crutches again, so... I should at least try to make it through the airport on my own power."

Alberto's eyes soften as he stares down at him grimly. "Are you sure, mi amigo? There's no shame in needing a little assistance sometimes. I don't want you putting yourself through needless pain just for pride, or..."

He shakes his head. "I'll... I'll manage, El Patron." And he does, somehow, though it's clear the level of discomfort it brings him as he avoids a sea of people at every turn, the only thing keeping them back sometimes being Del Rio's heated glare. He helps him to sit down, taking the crutches from him and handing over a bottle of water to him.

"Gracias," he mutters, leaning back against the seat and trying to adjust his leg so less pressure is placed on his ankle. Alberto watches him for a long moment, wishing he could do something to make this easier for him. "I'm ok."

Del Rio sighs at the expected response and leans forward, staring at him. "Why not rest your leg on my knee while we wait? That way it's elevated, hmm?"

Ricardo gapes and flushes, looking around. "Oh, no, no, El Patron, that's really not necessary, I'm ok-" But he can tell by his employer's steadfast gaze that he won't be stopping him, and the waiting area is already cluttered enough with people and their things that he doesn't have much choice, shifting in his chair until he can follow his friend's suggestion, flushing slightly as he rests his ankle up on Alberto's leg, Del Rio's hand resting just below his knee to keep it in place.

"Is this comfortable?"

"Si, it's fine," he mumbles awkwardly. "Gracias."

Alberto nods at him and glances around, listening for their plane to be announced. "Amigo, I believe you have the window seat this time... how about we switch seats? I have aisle, this way you can have some extra room to stretch your leg out. Just try not to trip people up," he offers with a teasing smile, trying to ease some of the angst still visible on his ring announcer's face.

Ricardo's eyes widen. "It's not necessary, El Patron, I know you prefer the aisle-"

"No, mi amigo. I want you to have it. I'll be fine by the window for once." He smiles grimly at his best friend. "Don't worry about it."

Ricardo swallows. "If you're sure, El Patron." As his employer nods, he sighs and accepts it reluctantly, staring at his hands. "Gracias again, then."

When their flight is finally called, Del Rio helps him back up to his feet and through all of the lines and is relieved when even the TSA agents seem to take it easier on him, especially while taking his shoe off, allowing them through with very little hassle after the routine scans. "Come, amigo," he tells him quietly, helping him put his shoe back on and collect his things before leading him back towards their gate to begin boarding.

Once they're settled, he digs around in their carry-on, finding Ricardo's pain medicine. The ring announcer watches him, eyes wide, as he presses it into his front pocket. "Just in case you need it later, mi amigo," he tells him with a somber smile. "Relax, hm? The flight will be fairly long, you can get some sleep."

"But-"

"No, amigo," Alberto cuts him off immediately, aware of his self-assigned goal to always stay awake and keep his employer company on flights. "I'm capable of entertaining myself for the next few hours, you need your rest." He sighs when Ricardo continues to hesitate, dark eyes locked on him. "If something happens, I'll awaken you, si? For now, all I need is for you to rest. Sofia would kill me if she returned to find you exhausted."

Still looking unhappy with this, the ring announcer nods slowly and closes his eyes hesitantly, his fingers tensing and relaxing against the armrests repetitively until Del Rio reaches over and squeezes his hand, his face tilting towards his employer. "El Patron."

"It's ok, Ricardo, just relax," he whispers, reaching over to adjust his seatbelt so he can sit more comfortably while they wait for take off. "I'm here, you're safe."

Somehow this works, the ring announcer dozing off finally, his head angled towards Alberto's arm as he slumps down in the seat as well as he can, considering the small space. His employer sighs in relief before he stares out of the window, too deep in thought to even want to try reading or finding some other way to keep himself busy through the flight.

He does, however, notice when Ricardo shifts next to him, releasing a soft whimper. He turns quickly, leaning closer as the younger man continues to stir, lips parting as his eyes flutter open. "Ricardo?"

"El Patron..." He sighs, face crunching up slightly as he stares down at his feet, shaking his head. "Ay..."

"Do you need some more medicine?" he asks, reaching into his pocket just in case. He stops, however, when Ricardo shakes his head. "What then, amigo?"

"I..." He breathes in heavily. "I just want to sleep, but I... can't. It-"

Alberto leans in closer and taps his hand. "Of course you can, mi amigo. Just close your eyes. I'm right here, you'll be fine. I promise."

Ricardo whimpers silently but listens, his body still tense as Alberto strokes his arm absently, watching him. "El Patron," he breathes out searchingly, turning his head towards his employer.

"Mm hmm, I'm here, mi amigo, and we'll be home soon. Everything will be fine." He maintains constant contact with the ring announcer, relieved when tension slowly drains out of his body, leaving him half-dozing.

Shifting slightly, Alberto watches him closely as he slumps against his employer, face still tense with pain and worry until he finally just gives in, completely falling asleep. His fingers are still twitching in his lap until they too relax, the ring announcer completely out now. Alberto smiles grimly at him. "Duerme bien, mi amigo," he whispers. He's reluctant to look away from the younger man, just in case, but he compromises with himself by pulling out a book and makes sure he can see him alright out of the corner of the eye as he reads, just in case Ricardo should need something, or just want his company.

Midway through the flight, he accidentally dozes off and, when he awakens, it's to find Ricardo trying to straighten himself up, stop leaning against Del Rio, groggy and disoriented. "Here, here," he whispers, helping him to sit up and lean back against his seat, Ricardo once more frowning down at his ankle as though it's something beyond his understanding. "Are you ok, mi amigo?"

Finally Ricardo glances over and releases a shuddering breath. "Si, El Patron..."

"Are you hungry, or thirsty? The flight attendants could bring something," he offers, brow furrowing as he considers how much longer the flight may go on, surprised by just how long he himself had slept. "Whatever you want, Ricardo."

The ring announcer grimaces. "Lo siento, El Patron, I'm not up for much of anything right now. But if you want something, you should get it. I'll be ok."

Alberto tsks at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "You need to take care of yourself, mi amigo. I'm fine, but you at least should drink something." Ricardo sighs, looking up at him with an exhausted gaze. He immediately softens, figuring that the younger man is probably more tired than hungry or thirsty. "I'm not trying to force you, it's just you're on a lot of medicine, mi amigo."

"I understand, El Patron," he murmurs. "I just don't feel hungry for anything. But I guess I am kind of thirsty."

"That's fine," Alberto tells him soothingly. "Whatever you feel up for, Ricardo." As the ring announcer nods tiredly, Alberto helps him to sit forward just enough for him to move his hand, motion for the nearest flight attendant. "What do you want, then?"

Ricardo winces as he shifts, trying to think. "I- I don't know. Orange juice?"

"Alright," Alberto says, smiling warily at the flight attendant as she hands over the drink. Not for the first time since all of this happened, he wishes Sofia's time off was some other week, Del Rio aware that she's able to handle getting the younger man to eat or drink much easier than he can. "I'll have one as well, por favor." Once they both have their drinks, they stare out of the window at the passing cloud cover. Alberto notices after almost ten minutes that Ricardo's fallen silent, glancing over to find that his eyes are closed, hand tight around the flimsy juice container. He's clearly not asleep, so Alberto lays his own carton down on the tray before reaching over to squeeze his arm. "It's ok, mi amigo," he breathes out when the younger man looks over at him blurrily. "It'll pass, this won't last forever."

"Si," Ricardo murmurs, trying to relax his hold. "It just hurts." Alberto sighs and runs his hands through his hair, watching him sympathetically. "I... can I have another pain pill? I can't remember..."

Alberto checks his watch before glancing back at his friend. "Si, I think it'd be alright." He pulls the abused juice container from Ricardo's fingers, grimacing when he finds that it's empty. "You can drink the rest of mine. Here." He pulls out the bottle and pushes over his juice, shaking out one of the pills into Ricardo's waiting hand, watching as he shakily takes the medicine, closing his eyes against the bitter taste of the juice mixed in with the painkiller. "Breathe," he whispers, watching closely as Ricardo slowly relaxes, the medicine hitting him hard and fast and sending him once more to sleep a little later. The flight has another couple of hours before they land in Florida so Alberto smiles slightly, turning back to his book. He's relieved that his friend at least is finding some comfort and rest, though he wishes it was naturally and not because of drugs and exhaustion due to pain.

Within the hour, Del Rio grows tired of sitting still and, finding Ricardo to still be sleeping seemingly peacefully, he puts his book down and stands, gingerly stepping around the ring announcer to step into the aisle, stretch his legs a bit. He's barely moved an inch, however, when something snags his wrist, startling him. He turns sharply, ready to defend himself instinctively, when he realizes that it's Ricardo holding him back, staring sleepily up at him. Realization clicks with him quickly, however, and he releases him with a horrified look on his face. "Eh, lo- lo siento," he gasps out. "I- I didn't mean to..."

Alberto shakes his head, reclaiming his seat next to him. "It's ok, mi amigo. Is there something you needed?"

Ricardo swallows and picks at his sleeve, staring up at him. "I... I... please stay?"

Alberto blinks. "Oh, si, mi amigo, of course, I was just going to walk up the aisle, stretch my legs for a bit, is all. I wasn't going to leave for long."

Flushing, the ring announcer feels silly as he nods. "Lo siento, I just- I woke up and... I didn't want you to go, I didn't want to be alone."

Alberto shakes his head. "No need to apologize, mi amigo. We're almost in Florida." He smiles and pats Ricardo's jaw. "We'll be home soon, and then you can rest in your own bed. I'll take good care of you while Sofia is gone, I promise."

"I know you will," he breathes, not seeming to mind all that much that Sofia won't be there. "I trust in you."

Del Rio grins and pulls his friend over for a quick hug, squeezing his shoulder. Things are always odd with Sofia gone, because it happens so rarely, but he has no doubt that they'll pull through together. They always do, after all.

And of course he's right, they make it through successfully, doctor appointments passing by in a blur, days spent around the house quietly, Ricardo sleeping off and on the first couple of days and watching sports or movies with Alberto towards the end of the week. Since the younger man's ankle is still aching often, and he can't walk without grimacing, Del Rio is relieved that his requested time off had been accepted, not feeling comfortable leaving him even with other members of the staff still around the house, watching over the grounds or his cars, no matter how confident he's slowly becoming on the crutches once more.

That Sunday night, Sofia returns, hurriedly dropping her bag out of the walk path by the front door before venturing through the house to look for her employer and the ring announcer, worried for both of them. "Senor!" she cries, almost stumbling over Del Rio as he leaves Ricardo's bedroom to meet her, holding a finger to his lips. She obligingly lowers her voice as he tilts his head towards the partially open door, the housekeeper peering inside and swallowing upon finding the younger man asleep in his bed. "Why didn't you tell me? I would've come immediately, helped-"

"That is why," Alberto tells her quietly. "Ricardo didn't want to disturb your vacation. It would've made him feel even worse about everything, so I let it go. How did you find out?"

"I went to WWE's website to remind myself where Smackdown is being held this weekend, so I would know where you and Senor Rodriguez would be," she says, frustrated. "There was an article about- about what that... that... Swagger did to him, to you." Her eyes soften as she rests a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright, senor?"

"Yes," Alberto tells her quietly. "I'm not the one you should worry about anyway." He rests his hand on her back and quietly leads her away from the bedrooms, allowing her to sit at the kitchen table before settling in across from her. "Ricardo told me... about when he was a teenager." She looks confused and he sighs tiredly. "Apparently he broke his ankle then as well... and infection set in." He stares at his hands and shakes his head. "They almost had to... amputate." She gasps in horror, imagining how differently things would've been for the younger man, as he had when he'd first heard. "The doctor foresees no such issues this time, but I think what he needs the most is support and encouragement that it _won't_ happen again."

"Si of course," she says soberly.

He breathes in deeply before looking up at her, smiling wanly. "I'm glad you're home, Sofia."

"Me too, senor," she agrees easily, standing up to look in on Ricardo once more. "Have either of you ate?"

"He was sleeping, and I was keeping an eye on him," Alberto says unabashedly as she tsks at him. "Lo siento, this isn't what you should come back to after a few days spent with your family, but-"

"Do not apologize, senor. It's good to be back where I belong," she tells him. "I'll look in on Senor Rodriguez and then find something for supper." He smiles at her, nodding thankfully, before she leaves the kitchen and quietly enters Ricardo's bedroom, staring down at him sympathetically.

He stirs after a moment and blinks sleepily. "El Patron?"

"No, senor, it's me." She sits next to him and rubs his arm soothingly as he wakes up slowly, staring at her.

"Sofia! You're home." He shifts and winces, hand trailing down his leg as fresh pain stabs up his ankle. "Eh..." She immediately cups his other hand and shakes pills into it, closing his fingers on them before moving again to collect his water bottle. "Gracias," he tells her after taking the medicine, groaning softly. "You know what happened, then." 

"Si, I do. I'm so sorry, senor. I'm also sorry I wasn't here to help..."

He cuts her off, shaking his head. "No, no, Sofia, don't apologize for that. El Patron took good care of me and besides, you deserved the time off." He smiles wearily up at her. "You nor El Patron have anything to apologize for. This is Swagger's fault... and El Patron will make him pay at Wrestlemania, I have no doubt."

As the ring announcer and housekeeper continue to talk lowly, Ricardo wanting to know how her family is doing, and what all they did the past few days, Alberto stands outside listening to them with a warm, soft smile on his face. They may have a long road ahead of them but for now, here, Ricardo's words echoing in his ear, he's certain things will be alright.


End file.
